1. the point at which a plan or project is realized
This word has been circling around in my head for weeks. Fruition.
My daughter, you were born five years ago. We had prayed for this baby. The moment we heard your dad had cancer we had wept at the thought that we would never have a child. We cried for the baby we had dreamt. The Disney trips we would take, the Christmas mornings, the big headed baby we’d laughed about early on as we dated and compared our both rather large noggins.
“I want to have four kids,” your dad would say, “an even number so someone always has someone to ride with at Disney.”
It wasn’t as easy as we’d thought. All those scary stories of unplanned pregnancies seemed laughable now. Who had known I could have just been running all over town- this getting pregnant stuff was way harder than my Health teacher had let on.
But then it happened. A plus sign. Our sign.
We spent most of our pregnancy fighting cancer. I did the growing while your dad did the killing of the cells through chemotherapies and surgeries.
The day you were born felt like the finish line. We’d made it. Your dad alive and by my side.
The next five years have brought so much heartache, so much of it I’ve done my best to shield your tiny eyes from. Your daddy died before you were even steady on your own tiny little feet and the truth is, neither was I.
Now, here we are. You are five years old. How have we survived FIVE years? I can’t help but to feel so incredibly proud of myself as I know we’ve done it together. Every middle of the night feeding, diaper change, all the sleepless nights, play dates, potty training, and now onto our nights watching movies and eating sushi on the floor.
On the day you were born, I looked at you and said, “We have been waiting for you” and in a moment, knew I’d met you before.
My sweet girl, I’m so sorry your dad is not here to see you grow. We still blow kisses to the sky and I try and tell you as much as I can about him. You recite the memories I’ve placed in your head.
“My daddy is an artist and loves pizza,” I overheard you tell a friend.
You would have loved him and oh how he’d have adored you. I wonder what he’d think of how we’re doing. I know he’s have plenty to say about our messy house. Oh boy do I miss him cleaning up after me and making sure my oil was changed.
So many things I’ll teach you so you know you can always stand on your own two feet.
Mira, you are kind and loving and wear those giant emotions so well. You are stubborn and quick-tempered, I’d love to blame your dad for those but you come by them honestly from both of us. You make perplexed faces like your father and I hear myself saying the same things to you as I said to him, “get rid of those angry eyes”, and he’d relax his face and laugh.
I know we have years more of ups and downs and struggles as we face new challenges together. Kindergarten all the way into the sassy talk teens. Sign me up girl, because to me, you make this all worth it.
Someday when you look back your childhood, I hope you remember our bedtime stories and forever long bubble baths. Drinking chocolate milk in coffee cups and wearing matching unicorn pajamas. I hope you know you were safe, loved and man did your mom work hard to create memories.
My donut loving, left-handed, spunky love. You are the point in which God’s plan has been realized.
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